


Knowing Better

by Tiriel



Category: Waking the Dead
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, episode s8e7-8: Endgame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiriel/pseuds/Tiriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd doesn't normally worry what others think of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knowing Better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tearoseandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tearoseandhoney/gifts).



The official investigation was brief. No one was sad that Linda Cummings was dead, and no one was terribly worried whether Boyd's hand had slipped or he had let go. He and Spence were the only witnesses, and their reports were in agreement--her death had been an accident, and Boyd was not to blame. Their statements may have been the same, but it seemed that only one of them believed what he wrote.

Right after it happened, Boyd had knelt next to Grace's wheelchair, waiting for the ambulance that would take her back to hospital, and said, "She's dead. She can't hurt anyone else." Grace had just nodded. She hadn't asked how or why or anything at all. Boyd knew what that meant.

Kat, who hardly knew him, Eve, who normally believed evidence over opinion, the PCs who took their statements--everyone seemed to have a knowing look in their eye. They all thought they knew what had happened on that rooftop.

Even Spence, who had always questioned him, always called him on his bullshit, swore it hadn't been his fault, that there was nothing he could have done. That was how Boyd knew Spence believed he'd murdered Linda Cummings.

To say it didn't sit well with him would be an understatement. He didn't like the feeling one bit. It would be one thing if it were justified, if her death really were questionable, but Boyd knew perfectly well that it wasn't. He'd been in the room with Penny Cain, the person who'd held the needle which killed Luke. He'd been ordered to kill her or else lose Grace. He'd wanted her dead so badly he couldn't see straight, but still he hadn't been able to do it. There was no bloody reason for him to have killed Linda Cummings not ten minutes later. No bloody reason at all, and it was stupid for anyone to think otherwise. Most of them he could ignore, but Grace and Spence really ought to have known better.

He supposed that some people might suggest that it was karmic payback for every innocent person he'd had in his interrogation room over the years, and that a better man would learn from the experience, but Boyd didn't believe in karma, and he wasn't a better man. He'd seen far too many innocents suffer to buy in to that sort of wishful thinking.

Grace was still in hospital, still undergoing treatment. After a lot of fuss about confidentiality, Boyd had finally browbeaten her physician into admitting that while it was still too soon to judge her prognosis, there were some encouraging signs. He didn't remember the exact words, but it was possible that he'd threatened the man with an in-depth police examination of his life from cradle to grave if Grace didn't have a full and speedy recovery.

He brought her flowers every time he went to visit her. She'd been redistributing them to the pediatric ward--the nurse had told him last time--so today he brought two bouquets. She smiled when she saw them. "Hello, Peter."

"Grace."

"How are you?"

"How am I? I am a grown man, Grace, with decades on the job. I think I know when I've killed someone."

"I should certainly hope so."

"Then why does everyone seem to think I killed Linda Cummings?"

"I thought you were cleared of responsibility in that. Who is saying you killed her?"

"Nobody's saying it, Grace, everyone's just looking it at me."

"Looking it at you?"

"Yes, looking it at me! And you're one of them, so don't play the psychologist with me."

"I wasn't there, Boyd. I didn't see what happened. But it would be a normal human reaction if you did let her go. She was responsible for the death of your son."

Boyd shook his head. "No, she wasn't."

"Well, you weren't either."

"He was my son, Grace. I couldn't take care of him. Who else is responsible?"

"Parents can't always protect their children. You've seen it a hundred times. You did your best."

"Well, it wasn't good enough, now, was it?"

"It was all you could do. You're not just blaming yourself for Luke, are you?" It was a statement, really, not a question.

"No. Spence blames me for her death."

"He doesn't."

"He's gone, though."

"He left before this even happened. And I'm not gone."

"You could have been. I was supposed to kill Penny Cain. I should've. Your life was on the line."

"If you had, I'd never have forgiven you. Besides, she'd have killed me either way."

"Is that a personal opinion, or a profiler's?"

"Both."

"Well, then. I should've listened to you and not gotten involved in her game."

"It's all right. I knew better than to expect otherwise. And don't bother promising you'll listen next time. I know you won't."

"What about Spence?"

"I think that if you want to know what he thinks about Linda Cummings, you'd better ask him yourself."

"Do me a favor, Grace?"

"What?"

"Keep one bouquet of flowers for yourself."

"All right."

As Boyd left, a hospital employee tried to tell him not to use his mobile. He just barked "Police business" at the man and kept walking toward the exit, phone to his ear.

"DI Spencer Jordan."

"Spence."

"Yes, Boyd?"

"I'd like to talk about Linda Cummings."

"You saw my report. What else is there to say?"

"Your report? Your report was a steaming pile of--"

"I wrote what I saw."

"But not what you believed. I was responsible for Stefan Koscinski's death. That I admit. And I'm sorry if that's what made you leave the team. But I didn't let go of her hand. I didn't kill Linda Cummings."

"That's not why I took the transfer."

"Then why, Spence? Why have you left?"

"I just--I need to see what else I can do. And yes, your tendency to run roughshod through whoever is in the way of your idea of justice was always a point of contention, and yes, there were probably a thousand times I wanted to quit, but I stuck it out. I always stuck it out. I'm still around. I'm just doing something different for a while, that's all."

"And Linda Cummings?"

"I can't say I'd have been willing to dive halfway off the side of a building to try to save her myself, Boyd. Or that I'd have had the strength to try to hang on when she was telling you to drop her. I do blame you for Koscinski, but not for her. You didn't let her go."

"All right, then. As long as we're clear."

"As a bell. Listen, Boyd, while I've got you, I've got a new case that I think may relate to a cold job."

"You'll have to bring me the evidence just like anybody else. My team will evaluate it and let you know if we think there's anything there."

"Sounds good. I'll bring over the file."

"You do that."

Boyd put his mobile back in his pocket and got into his car. He had two more bouquets of flowers in the back seat. One was for Stella's grave, still fresh, and one was for Mel's. On the way, he'd pick up a third for Luke's grave. He'd probably get more for Grace as well, as she'd have given both of hers away before the day was out. She might have said she wouldn't, but she wasn't the only one who knew better.


End file.
